Party Games
by WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo
Summary: Scorpius is left to house sit Malfoy Manor while his parents are away. His best friend has a plan involving Potters, which may not turn out the way she hopes.


Warnings: Voyeurism, incest, alcohol, explicit sexual description, anal sex, ejaculate, anal fingering, masturbation.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling created and owns the Potterverse and all within it.

Author's Note: Many thanks and much love to "emansil_08" for the very quick and thorough beta, which I didn't leave much time for her to do. Written for "hp_cestfest". Thanks to "l3petitemort" for modding organisation and general awesomeness.

* * *

Against all expectations, Faustina Midgeon-Goyle was a beauty. She had a sharp mind, too. Her older brother, Iago, had pulled all the short straws from the genetic sand tray - he had his mother's skin and his father's brains, her height and his breadth.

Faustina, on the other hand, was tall enough to be leggy, but not too tall, without her father's weight issues or her mother's over-active sebaceous glands. In addition, her parents had provided her with all the physical advantages which magic could bestow. Cunning and ambitious, the family's hopes rested on her: she would marry into one of the powerful, Pure, old families and make all of their fortunes.

To this end, she was introduced to Scorpius Malfoy very early in life. By the time they both started Hogwarts together, they were inseparable and once they had left school their families and friends awaited the announcement of their engagement. This suited Faustina, because it kept her free of the unwanted attentions of half-bloods, paupers and the like; it suited Scorpius because he wasn't ready to leave the closet just yet.

The Malfoys were all very well – Faustina was fond of Scorpius – but their time of power was over. They kept to the shadows now, for fear that their role in the Unpleasantness would be paraded publicly again. Faustina had, as I have said before, a sharp mind. As far as she was concerned, the only decision to be made was between James and Albus Potter.

"The question is," she said to her best friend. "Which one?"

"They _are_ both gorgeous," Scorpius replied.

They were sitting on his bedroom balcony looking out over the Wiltshire countryside in the September after they had left Hogwarts,

"That is not a relevant fact. It is of no importance, Scorpius Hyperion. Focus," Faustina rebuked him.

"Albus has all that thick black hair which simply icompels/i you to fantasise about running your fingers through it."

"James, as the eldest, is the heir, but a forward-thinking family like the Potters probably won't be practising primogeniture anyway."

"He's so tall. Those long, muscular thighs ..."

"In fact, they'll probably include the daughter in the inheritance plans, so I may have to do something about her."

"Twinkling blue eyes and his chest all muscular and defined. Albus has that cute skinny thing going for him, though."

Faustina glared. "You need to get laid, Malfoy. It's affecting your concentration."

"Like sex is that easy to find! I'm not even out."

"And you can't come out until I'm safely engaged."

"Wasn't planning on it. Can you imagine my parents' reaction? I might just die a virgin. It'll be easier."

"Nonsense! I'll pay for it myself if it'll stop your incessant obsessing."

"That's disgusting. And insulting," he added after a moment's thought.

"The thing is," Faustina ignored him and continued discussing her own fixation, "that if I approach the wrong one first, and it doesn't work out well, then I may jeopardise my chances with the other."

"I don't want to shag a rentboy, 'Stina. I want flowers and poetry and hand-holding and romance."

"The first thing we need to do is to check that they're both straight. You can do that for me."

"Huh?" Scorpius stared at her, his mouth dropping open in an unattractive way.

"Because if one of them is gay, then I'll make my play for the other one first."

"What did you -?"

"I'm thinking that I might have a better chance of marrying a heterosexual. Me being a woman. Do keep up, Scorpius!"

"And I need to ...? What do you want me to?"

"Test them both. You know - flirt, make passes."

"I don't know how. And what if they just don't fancy me? Or I'm crap at trying it on? Or whatever." He was aware of his voice getting increasingly shrill. Soon only the hunting hounds would be able to hear him. "And you just told me not to announce my sexuality, which I don't want to do anyway so how is this -?"

"I'll teach you. Subtle seduction. Stop panicking."

...*...

James Potter was wearing a tiny blue vest which was soaked in sweat and clinging to his chest, which was even more defined than Scorpius remembered it. His pale, freckled skin glistened under the strip lights. All around him were equally distracting men with equally delicious chests. The very walls of the place reeked of testosterone and man-musk. Faustina had been very wrong, Scorpius thought, an approach in the gym was a mistake.

He took a deep breath and stepped out of the changing room in his short shorts and unbuttoned shirt, picked his way between near-naked grunting hunks and got onto the treadmill beside James.

He decided to jog nonchalantly for a couple of minutes before casually turning to his left and saying, "Excuse me , but I think we've met. Aren't you ...?" But there was nobody there.

He scanned the place, trying to keep his cool. James was crouching on the mats on the other side of the room, his feet planted widely apart. With one graceful movement, he snatched a pair of weights up to his chest and rose to standing, before lifting them straight out to his sides. His biceps bulged; Scorpius' heart stopped. He tried to restart it by remembering to breathe as James raised and lowered the weights a few more times, before putting them down to take off his sodden vest.

At that point, Scorpius' brain closed down altogether, unable to do any more than scream swear words at him. Faustina had made a very big mistake.

It took a long time for him to regain control over his loins and his mind. Several of the wizards in the gym gave him funny looks – but not James. He hadn't noticed him at all. By the time Scorpius was back in a fully functioning state, his target was strolling towards the showers.

Scorpius waited in the Changing Room, hearing the water running and trying not to imagine soap suds slipping over a six-pack stomach, down towards ...

James emerged in a towelling dressing gown, which was a mercy because a tiny towel skimming his hips would have unravelled Scorpius entirely.

"Is it James Potter?" he managed to ask. "I thought I recognised you earlier. We were at school together."

James nodded in a way which was friendly enough to be polite, but no warmer. "I remember. Scorpius Malfoy, right?"

"Yeah." Scorpius nodded back. His throat was drying out and his palms were soaking with sweat. "You're going to be a professional Quidditch player, I heard." He had to try to extend the conversation, to keep James' attention. Then there would be the tricky bit, the one for which Faustina had been training him, and at which he expected to fail.

James summoned a towel from a pile on a nearby bench and rubbed his short-cropped ginger hair with it. "Uh huh," he agreed.

"Not surprised!" Scorpius went for a manly chuckle, but it came out higher-pitched and more like a giggle than he had hoped. "You always were good."

James sauntered over to his locker as he asked what Scorpius was up to these days.

"Well, I left school this summer." Scorpius bravely kept the conversation going and even shifted his stance in a manner which was meant to be provocative, though James was more interested in undoing the wards on his padlock. "I'm still studying. History of Magic. Research. I specialise in the history of the Dark Arts. Plenty of material at home to work on." He tried out his self-deprecating laugh.

James' face was behind the locker door now as he asked, "Big Manor House, isn't it?"

"Yes." Ok, he was going for it: "You should come and see it some time." Too much? Not enough?

James had his arms full of clothes as he slammed the locker shut with his shoulder. Scorpius tried not to watch as the action swept up his dressing gown and revealed a flash of perfect thigh. Then he remembered why he was here and decided that it would have been a better idea to have leered with open appreciation. James was walking towards an empty cubicle. Scorpius thought he had lost his chance. James just wasn't taking any notice of his attempted flirting.

Then James stopped and asked, "You got albino peacocks?"

"Er, yeah." He pouted and looked up under his hair in a manner which Faustina had promised was _guaranteed_ to subtly scream _bend me over the nearest solid object now_!

"Albino peacocks," he murmured breathlessly. "A few of those."

"Shame," said Potter, "I'm allergic to feathers." He nodded as he backed into the cubicle and said with unmistakable dismissal in his tone, "Nice to see you again, Malfoy."

The door was shut and he heard a lock slide across; Scorpius' brain screamed oaths at him for quite a different reason this time.

...*...

Scorpius had thought that the gym was hot, but it had nothing on the rain-forest. He perched awkwardly on a bar tool, gingerly sipping a lager and trying to recover from the queasiness brought on by the International Floo journey the day before. The bar was ramshackle, but it was the only one in the wizarding trading post which consisted of a half dozen buildings which could only be being held upright by magic.

Apparently Albus Potter was out in that damp heat somewhere, tracking down Aztec curses and breaking them for Gringott's. His uncle had got him an internship. Nobody seemed to know when he was due to return, so Scorpius was resigned to hanging out and making the best of things for a few days. He was uncomfortable and unhappy and he couldn't remember how Faustina had talked him into this.

Getting drunk was a tempting idea, but he would be dehydrated enough when he woke up, without adding a hangover. Someone sat down on the stool next to his, but he didn't look at them. This place was full of weirdoes. He stared glumly at the bubbles rising in his glass instead. His hair was sticking to his forehead and he stank like an animal, he could barely breathe in this heat. When Potter did decide to saunter back to base Scorpius would be in no fit state to seduce him anyway.

"Excuse me," said the man on the next stool, "I think I might know you."

Scorpius found himself looking straight into the greenest eyes in the world. The last of his breath deserted him. "Uh, yes," he gasped. "You're Albus Potter."

"I know." Of course he knew. "You're Scorpius Malfoy. So what the fuck are you doing out here?"

Scorpius took a long drink of cold alcohol. He had an answer for this and he needed to remember it right. "Research. I'm researching. Aztec curses. I do studying. Of old stuff. History."

"Really?" Albus looked very interested.

Scorpius began to panic before he remembered that this was a subject he actually _did_ know something about. He could talk for hours about the research project which he hadn't started yet. He relaxed and began to explain. Albus looked right into his face as he was talking, as though it was all fascinating. This was good.

" ... and some of the older curses actually have Aztec roots, apparently," he finished up. "So why are you here?"

Albus' face was flushed and his eyes sparkled. He was leaning forwards and bouncing on the stool. This was looking very, very good!

"Yes!" he said. "Oh, yes! I'm so glad I met up with you. That's why I'm out here. Ancient Aztec curses! That's what I'm searching for. Brilliant!"

It was the curses he was getting excited about? Not Scorpius? Even Scorpius didn't get that worked up about Dark history. "Have you found some?" he asked.

Albus sighed then, and all that lovely light fell out of his face. "A few. But they're incomplete."

"Can I have a look at them?" Scorpius asked. If he couldn't get what he had come for then maybe he could at least get something for his research project. "There may be a connection with some of the texts in the Manor library."

"I'm not supposed to. It's all top secret." Albus frowned. Then he said decisively, "Well, not in public then. Come up to my room."

Scorpius, obviously, jumped at the chance.

Among other local finds, Albus had discovered a punchy spirit brewed by a local Shaman. He had a bottle of it charmed cold in his little room. Scorpius thought it tasted of sweet gooseberries and tobacco.

Like Scorpius' room just along the corridor, the room was sparsely furnished, so they spread out the parchment on the bed and sat on the opposite edges of it to read. Albus' discoveries really were quite interesting and tied in with some of the things Scorpius had found at home. They both became engrossed in the paperwork and for a while that took up all of their attention. As the night wore on, though, and more of the spirit was drunk, their translation spells got less precise and they both shifted further onto the single bed.

The mistranslations got worse, and ruder, and everything sounded funnier than it really was. Albus directed his wand at the bottle and it refilled their glasses yet again. Then he shuffled down comfortably onto the bed, lying on his tummy in the middle of his notes.

"There's something here somewhere about a cow. Or a camel. Can't remember," he slurred.

Scorpius wasn't really listening, he was looking at the sweet dip of Albus' lower back, and the way it swept up into the curve of his buttocks. He could just casually lie down; the bed was so small that their sides would press together. He swallowed. Did he dare?

"Can't be a camel, can it?" Albus was saying. "Not here. What's an alpaca?"

"Dunno. Like a llama? Is that a priest?" Scorpius replied distractedly and slid himself down next to Albus.

"Where's that one that might have been a blessing? Thought there was an alpaca in it. Might have been a cow." Albus shuffled the papers around, searching.

As he did so, his body shifted against Scorpius' side, rubbing against him to create heat and friction. Scorpius just stared at those very green eyes and that very thick, black hair. He could feel his face moving closer to them. He was lying on one of his hands, but the other drifted up. He had always wanted to. He touched the hair, pushed his fingers into it.

Albus looked sharply round and into Scorpius' face for the first time in a while. Scorpius glanced down at his mouth, licked his lips, angled his head and – Albus jumped out of the bed.

He looked stricken. Eyes wide and skin pale, he whispered, "Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry?" Things had been going so well. Hadn't they? "Sorry for ...?" Scorpius tried to sit up but his head pounded. He closed his eyes against the low light of the room, which was suddenly too bright for him.

"I never thought, I really didn't!" Albus was insisting. "I didn't mean to make you think that. Have I been leading you on? I'm so sorry. I never notice. I should have noticed." There was a long silence. Several different nauseas competed in Scorpius' gut. "I'm in a relationship," Albus said finally. "We're committed, in love. It's so deep that I forget that anyone else might be ... interested. Like that."

Scorpius groaned. "No, I'm the one who's sorry. I'm drunk. It was a stupid thing to do." He struggled up to sitting, holding his head, not looking at Albus. "Have I ruined everything? Can we still be friends?" He paused, lost in thought. "Or research partners anyway, I don't suppose we've known each other long enough, there's no friendship to lose."

"Yes there was! Is! I mean, not to lose, to keep. I like you, Scorpius. I've really enjoyed tonight. Not just the research, the company, too." He sounded desperately sincere. "And now that I've looked at you, I can see that you, well, you're attractive. It's not you. I just can't."

"I get it." Scorpius made it to standing. He glanced over at his new friend who looked nearly as sick as Scorpius felt. "I don't suppose you've got any hangover potions with you?"

Albus shook his head. "When are you going home?" he asked.

"In the morning."

"Send me a couple of vials?"

"You'd better have a crate if you're going to keep drinking that muck."

...*...

Scorpius wished that he hadn't told Faustina anything. Ever. Specifically, he wished he hadn't told her that his parents were going to a retreat in Tara for a week to save their marriage.

Her response had been: "You have to have a party!"

"I don't want to have a party. I want to mope about worrying about my parents' impending divorce. Probably get drunk on my own at breakfast, watch Muggle porn and wank myself into oblivion."

"Don't be silly. You're having a party."

So, of course, here he was, hosting a bloody party. She adjusted his bow tie for him.

"You're not wearing a bloody bow tie," she reprimanded, adjusting it into a t-shirt and his shirt into a denim jacket. "Oh, cheer up! You might even get laid."

"How am I going to get laid, 'Stina? The guest list is your potential husband list, " Faustina had decided against limiting herself to Potters after all, "which you have already had me test for hetero-ness, and your very ugliest female friends to make you look good."

"Lobelia's not ugly!"

"But her only topic of conversation is the chemical and magical components of bubertuber pus."

"Rose is interesting _and_ pretty!" she said triumphantly.

"She is, however, a junior mediwitch. So if she makes it here at all she'll doubtless fall asleep into her starter again."

"It's not a dinner party, daring, there will be no starters."

"So what is it? I knew I should never have instructed the House Elves to take orders from you."

"Just a party."

"Did James Potter really say he was coming? He told me he was allergic to feathers."

"I got rid of the peacocks. It's all sorted."

"You will get them back? Father loves those birds!"

"Stop panicking and trust me. Come downstairs now, you look ready."

As she swept out of his bedroom, Scorpius had a thought: "You're not going to trash my parents' house are you?"

He wished he'd never listened to Faustina about anything either. He had spent most of the last couple of months cornering eligible men and being either ignored or refused, with varying levels of politeness. Most of them had been good looking, all of them had been young, and all this unfulfilled flirting was doing nothing for his raging horniness. He couldn't see how it was going to help their attempts to present themselves as a nice, normal, _straight _couple, either.

He slouched downstairs, not feeling particularly comfortable in his 'trendy' Muggle outfit. He tried to turn the lights on in the master sitting room but found that he couldn't. They would have to make do with the few candles dotted around the place.

"It's called mood lighting," Faustina snapped at him, before pasting on a smile as the Floo whooshed and their first guest arrived.

Scorpius found himself knocking back cocktails in a corner with Lobelia Longbottom two hours later, trying to ignore her exposition on the mating habits of some parasitical bug. It all sounded gross but Scorpius still managed to feel jealousy along with his disgust, because at least it was getting some.

Faustina had worked the room all night. Her conversation had sparkled, her cleavage had wobbled, her tappy heels had marked the parquet. Most of the dozen men in the room had been enthralled. Scorpius had noticed, however, that the Potter boys had shown as much interest in her as they had in him. They sat quietly chatting, mostly with each other, occasionally with one of the unpopular girls. Their plain little faces would light up with pleasure at getting any kind of attention: which made them look a whole lot prettier. Scorpius remembered how it had felt to have Albus' emerald eyes focussed on him and he understood.

The quiet music which had been playing all evening which suddenly rose in volume and Faustina sashayed into the centre of the room. She called them all to attention. She was about to make an announcement. _Not dancing! Please, no_! He would go to bed early if she was going to pair them up and make them dance.

It was worse than that, though. It was games. She had organised games! Surely she wouldn't be obvious enough to fix 'spin the bottle'. He'd end up having to snog Oedwina Bulstrode-Creevey or someone equally unpalatable. Or James Potter, maybe ... The thought of that was enough to block out the continuing description of larval secretions to his left.

The first game wasn't 'spin the bottle', it was 'sardines': which wasn't much of an improvement. Faustina got them all to put their hands over their eyes and count out loudly to one hundred while she shimmied off to hide. As her high heels clacked away from him, Scorpius sighed miserably. He had been hoping to confine the damage to one room, but now these people would end up wandering all over the house.

" ... ninety seven, ninety eight, ninety nine, A HUNDRED!" roared out the captivated and intoxicated young men before rushing out to locate the object of their desire. The girls and the Potters moved more slowly but soon he was alone. He knocked back the last of his drink and staggered off in the direction of his bedroom, where he lay in the dark and let the world spin around him.

He could hear the footfalls and merry calls of the party-goers racing along the corridors of the Manor. Several people passed by his door as sleep refused to take him. Then the door opened. He was about to shout out "Piss off!" when he saw who had opened it. Framed by the light from the corridor stood James Potter. His broad shoulders slipped into the dark room and then he closed the door. Scorpius was too stunned to speak. That muscular, long, Quidditch-playing body was actually inside the very space in which he had dreamed about it for years. The surge of lust this provoked was so strong that he nearly stickied the sheets again then and there.

James didn't put on any lights or cast iLumos/i. He did not speak or explore the space. He just stood motionlessly by the door and waited. Scorpius stayed still and silent too.

After a couple of minutes, the door opened again.

"James?"

"In here."

Albus slipped into the room, closing the door behind him, and there was darkness again.

"Where?" Albus asked. Then "Oh!" Then it was silent again.

Scorpius didn't dare to move at all. He was eaten up with curiosity. His ears and eyes strained into the room, but for a long time he found out nothing. Then there was a small, moist noise, a sigh and Albus asked, "What room is this?"

"I don't know," James whispered back, with a note of frustration.

"How did you choose it? Third floor, third door, you said."

"Just numbers, just so we'd be in the same place," he replied quickly. "Please," he begged.

So Scorpius had just been lucky; random chance had brought the two of them to his bedroom. He must be able to turn this to his advantage. He had been sorted into Slytherin for a reason, surely. What were they up to? What was it that James was begging for?

Albus chuckled. It sounded to Scorpius like a low, sexy chuckle, but then he was so turned on by now that anything was going to sound sexy to him. There were sounds like fabric rustles, sighs and moans, but the images in Scorpius' head couldn't be trusted. He wanted to see them, but then they would see him.

"Been too long," James muttered. There were more soft, sliding sounds and little wet ones, then he gasped out, "Did you lock? Muffle?"

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing. Should do by now."

"So get on with it!"

The next sound was unmistakable: it was the loud groan of a man in either agony or ecstasy. There was slurping, and panting and Scorpius couldn't believe the images he was constructing. His hand was rubbing frantically at his clothed erection. They were brothers! They couldn't be doing what he thought they were doing. There must be a normal, logical explanation. So what the hell was it?

Then James cried out, "Fuck! Al! Stop! I'm gonna come. Stop or I'll come down your throat before we even _start_ fucking!" And Scorpius was left in no doubt.

He shoved his hand in his mouth to stop himself from moaning loudly and giving himself away. He wanted to watch, but he absolutely could not allow himself to be discovered.

His own whimpers were lost in the noises the Potters were making: grunting, ripping clothes, sucking, squelching, stumbling and gasping out, "I love you," to each other.

There was a heavy thud and then Scorpius had a split second to panic as, from the floor beside his bed, Albus said, "I want to see your body," followed by "iLumos!/i"

White light blazed from the tip of Albus' wand. The entire room was illuminated, from the ballerina figurines on the mantelpiece, to the piles of notes and ancient texts on the desk, to the old socks and apple cores in the dust under the bed, to the gawping teen on top of it. All Albus was interested in, though, was the flushed, naked, perfect body of his brother underneath him. Which was lucky. Unfortunately, James was staring in shock right up into Scorpius' face.

"You are so gorgeous," Albus whispered, running a hand over the ginger hair gracing James' firm belly. He dipped straight down for a kiss, just as James' mouth finally began to unfreeze.

Scorpius' view was filled with Albus' slim, smooth-skinned back. The dip was just as he remembered it, but this time the buttocks that swelled out of it were naked and flushed, exposed to his view in every place but the area covered by his brother's large, freckle-backed hand.

James made an incoherent noise full of tongues and pushed Albus off him. He glared at Scorpius as he shouted, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"It's _my_ bedroom!" Scorpius snapped back. "I _was_ trying to sleep!"

Albus' pale, wide-eyed face was trained on him just the way it had been in that hotel room in the rain-forest.

"But what are you _doing_?" James yelled. "Lying there listening to us? Getting off on it?"

The bulge in Scorpius' pants, and his hand's position over it, were undeniable. He went for attack, because there was no defence: "What am _I_ doing? You're ... you're ... you're ..." he flapped his free hand about to indicate the two tangled bodies on the floor. "Your brother!" he finished lamely.

Albus scrambled up to a kneeling position between James and the bed. "Scorpius, please don't say anything. You remember what I told you, about me being in love?"

Scorpius wasn't listening, though, Albus' movement had exposed two hard, weeping, exquisite cocks and his vision had narrowed to just them. James' was broader and paler, nestled in thick auburn curls. Albus' was longer, his foreskin looser, the head a darker red. Scorpius couldn't decide which he preferred; it didn't even occur to him that that wasn't a choice which needed to be made.

"Stop looking at us!" James shouted furiously.

Unable to tear his gaze away, Scorpius just muttered, "What harm's it do?"

Albus shushed his brother, stroking a soothing hand down his arm. He kissed his cheek and James calmed. "It's ok. Let him look, James. He can't touch, but we can let him watch, can't we?"

Let him watch? Scorpius groaned and pressed his erection against his palm. "Do you want the bed?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yes please," Albus replied without looking at Scorpius. "Ok, James?" he asked softly.

James sighed. "I don't care," he grumbled. "I just want you. Anywhere."

They stood and backed towards Scorpius' bed, arms wrapped around each other, locked in a passionate kiss. He shuffled backwards on his knees until he was pressed against the headboard. Neither of them was looking at him any more – their eyes only on each other – so he unzipped his jeans and released his desperate cock.

The bed hit the back of Albus' knees and he fell backwards, pulling James with him. They hit the mattress humping, hips grinding together, hands grasping hot flesh, wet lips sliding over each other – utterly oblivious to their audience. Scorpius didn't know where to look first; his eyes darted over the tempting flesh: slim olive against muscular freckled white. He inhaled deeply, drinking in their contrasting colognes mixed with the testosterone of the gym, the alcohol of that night in South America, and the sweat of both. His hand squeezed on his own prick as he imagined theirs grinding against each other.

Albus broke away from the kiss in order to pant harshly, his visible ribs heaving under his tanned skin. James' arms slipped up his younger brother's sides, into that thick black hair, then across his face, down his chest and onto his shoulders. All the while he wore an expression of concentrated devotion. Suddenly, his biceps tensed – swelling into vein-knotted, solid mounds – and then he flipped them over. Albus laughed lightly as he was slammed onto the satin bedspread and pressed under James' body. The action brought them closer to where Scorpius knelt, brought Albus' shoulder into contact with his knee. Still, the infatuated Potters ignored him.

James cocked one red eyebrow. "Uh huh?" he asked.

Albus nodded, grinning. "Uh huh," he replied.

Scorpius could see very little of the smaller, younger man now, because his pretty body was hidden under James. He couldn't see either of his hands but they must have been doing something good, judging by the noises James was making. Scorpius burned with frustrated curiosity. He wasn't here to direct them, though, he just felt very privileged that he was being allowed to watch. He eased one hand down to his balls.

Albus' hands reappeared and he was holding something now, a leather pouch. He made a happy humming sound which, combined with some slurping noises, made Scorpius think that they were kissing again. Delicate fingers ran over the twin ivory globes of James' buttocks, then between them and James cried out with pleasure.

Scorpius slipped off the bed, unnoticed by its occupants, and repositioned himself at the foot of the bed to get a better view. And what a view it was! Albus was squeezing the leather pouch, emptying its gooey contents all over his fingers, while holding James' cheeks apart. Scorpius had a clear view of the tight, puckered,

purple skin of James' arsehole. His vision narrowed to that spot as Albus' slick finger pushed into it.

James' cry was ragged and animal. His firm, tight bum pushed back in rapid jerks, filling with colour. He whined and threw his head back.

Albus was murmuring soothingly, "I love you. Shush. It's fine. Slow down. All the time in the world. I love you."

"Muh, muh, nuh," James' broken voice responded.

"I know, in good time, all the time we need," Albus replied, as though he knew exactly what his brother was saying.

Scorpius was so fascinated by the sight of James' rosy cheeks undulating, that he missed the moment when Albus slid a second finger into him. The two digits were in there now, though, stretching the skin out, exposing the pink flesh inside, pumping in an even rhythm. James' powerful thighs parted, his knees resting either side of his brother. Then, with another delicious, garbled, utterance from James, Albus inserted a third finger.

Scorpius was close to climax already, he didn't think he would cope with penetration. However, when James pushed himself up to a kneeling position and Scorpius once again caught sight of Albus' dark pubic hair and the glistening prick rising out of it, he was so entranced that his own hands stopped moving. Albus held James' hips and James reached behind himself to take hold of his brother's cock, guiding it to the right place, then lowering himself and making it disappear.

He screamed out and Scorpius' heartbeat skipped with panic. The noise was bound to alert someone to what was happening in here; the Manor was full of people. He had a brief vision of how they would look to someone walking in now: the flustered blond kneeling on the floor, his jeans round his knees, balls cupped with one hand, cock gripped by the other, staring intently at the place where the two naked, thrusting youths on the bed were joined to each other. Then he remembered that Albus had muffled and locked the room when he ha come in, and he relaxed and enjoyed the show.

James moved up and down, making Albus' cock rapidly appear and disappear from sight. His own was sticking out in front of him, being stroked erratically by Albus, whose hand kept slipping off and being brought back up onto it. They both moaned, James whimpering and panting too; every so often, Albus made a deep grunting sound as he angled his pelvis up.

Scorpius closed his eyes. It was too much. His orgasm rushed through him and he sprayed onto the leg of the bed. Breathing slowly, he sank down onto his knees, opening his eyes again just in time to see James spurt ropes of creamy come over the dark, curly hairs covering Albus' chest and stomach. As James began to fall sideways, Albus' fingernails bit red crescent shapes into the stretched skin between his buttocks and he jerked up quickly, before falling still, with a loud moan of pleasure.

James collapsed on top of his brother. They dozed for a few minutes, their limbs glued together with sweat and come. Then the Potter boys exchanged a glance.

James slid from the bed and Albus sat up. "Well, you've been very understanding, Scorpius," he said. "Very accepting." He got up and collected his clothes from the floor.

"There's a lot of prejudice around," James commented. "Not many people are as tolerant as you are."

"Stupid incest taboos!" Albus muttered. He cast a cleaning charm over the bedding.

"I think it's great," Scorpius mumbled drowsily. "You're so hot together. Can we do this again?"

The two brothers looked at each other. There was no regret in their glance, only determination.

"You have to understand that we love each other but we can never be together openly. We would be separated and prosecuted," Al said seriously. He was fully dressed and at the door now. He nodded at James and then he left.

"Well, yeah, but I won't tell anyone!" Scorpius sat up, beginning to feel scared now.

James had his hand on the door handle, just about to leave. "I know you won't," he said softly. Then he pointed his wand at Scorpius, saying "_Obliviate_!" and all Scorpius was aware of was a blinding light, then nothing at all until morning.


End file.
